


Creatio Ex Nihilo

by opalmatrix



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Friendship, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As winter closes in, it's hard for Hakkai to keep himself occupied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creatio Ex Nihilo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tessercat (nekonexus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekonexus/gifts).



> For tessercat, who loves these guys as much as I do. No beta!

The day was nearly over. The last of the clouds hung in long streamers in the western sky, above the trees. Hakkai had returned from Goku's lessons, set up a claypot casserole for supper, and tidied the small house. Gojyo had woken while Hakkai was cooking, eaten a light breakfast, and gone out to the yard to practice with the shakujo. Now Hakkai was on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor: quite unnecessary, because he had done it just yesterday, but he needed to do _something_ to fill the humming grey void in his head. Otherwise it gave birth to vivid memories of a knife parting skin, of blood seeping or spurting, of the feel of a blade chipping bone, or the sound that a skull made when it hit a stone wall … . 

What am I doing here? thought Hakkai. Cho Hakkai was proving not much more worthy of life than Cho Gonou had been.

Footsteps thumped on the wooden steps leading up to the little porch: Gojyo. He was breathing hard from the exercise as he opened the door, and his heavy coat was carelessly thrown over his shoulders. He smelled of healthy sweat and outdoor air. He shut the door behind him and then stopped dead, staring.

Hakkai smiled, and the expression felt awkward and unnatural on his face. "Were you working out in your shirtsleeves, Gojyo? I hope you didn't get chilled. Why don't you take a hot shower before supper?"

Gojyo let the coat drop to the doormat and squatted down next to Hakkai. He tugged at the wrist of the hand clutching the scrub brush. "Damn it, Hakkai … ."

Hakkai let him pull the hand up off the floor and bring it under Hakkai's nose for inspection. It was red and raw and waterlogged.

"Have you been scrubbin' the whole time I was out there?" asked Gojyo, and his voice was taut with some strong emotion.

"Err … perhaps? I'm not sure."

"Why? Look at this! Get up." Gojyo stood up and pulled Hakkai to his feet. "Hell, you're gonna have chilblains or somethin'."

Hakkai let Gojyo drag him into the bathroom, rinse the soap off his hands, and pat them dry. "They're still all red," Gojyo said, sounding angry.

"I have some salve," said Hakkai.

"Where?"

"In the wardrobe, on the top shelf. There's a box of remedies next to the first aid kit." He sat down on the lid of the commode and closed his eyes. His own raw, red skin was better than someone else's blood.

Gojyo fetched down the pasteboard box full of jars and bottles, and Hakkai pointed out the pot of salve. Gojyo opened it and then slathered Hakkai's hands with it lavishly. "How am I going to serve dinner like this, Gojyo? And shouldn't you be getting ready to go into town?"

"I know we got enough money for a week, Hakkai. I'm not goin' anywhere tonight. What the hell were you doin'?"

Hakkai sighed. "Well, that's the question, isn't it? Now that the cold weather has set in, Sanzo has little work for us to do. I teach my students for a few hours and take care of the house. What else is there for me to do?"

"Not scrub a clean floor until you wear your skin right off! Hakkai, you're a brainy guy. Can't you … I dunno, read something?"

"I already have trouble getting books and journals."

Gojyo knelt down on the floor and put an arm around him. "Hakkai," he said softly. "Maybe you could, I dunno, get another part-time job? Maybe Kozhan could use help writing scrolls and shit like that for people?"

"Don't sit on the bathroom floor," said Hakkai, automatically. Then: "I don't have the sort of handwriting that people pay for. I would have to learn proper calligraphy … oh!"

"What?"

"I could take a class myself."

"Now you're thinkin'!" said Gojyo, his voice warm. "But who'd know enough to teach you? Would Kozhan …?"

"I don't think so. But there are classes by mail. I've seen advertisements in my journals. I just have to write for more information."

"Sounds like a plan t' me. I'll go put dinner on. Just the clay pot, right? It has rice in it, too?"

"Yes. Put out some pickles. And make tea. But you should shower and change first. Perhaps you'd better wrap up my hands so I don't get salve all over everything. There's a basket of clean bandages on the shelf as well."

"OK."

As Gojyo wrapped and tied the clean strips of old sheeting around his hands, Hakkai looked out the little high window that ventilated the bathroom. The sun was sinking in splendid stripes of red and gold and lavender. Sunsets were for endings, but his thoughts were of beginnings, of filling his head with history, world geography, old languages, skills he had admired in the past, ranging from bookkeeping to locksmithing. The future that had been grey an hour earlier was starting to glow with color and with hope.

Gojyo tied off the last bandage and squeezed his shoulder. "Good now?"

"More than good," said Hakkai. "Tomorrow should be a beautiful day."


End file.
